


Bent, But Not Broken

by ladydragon76



Series: Bent, but Not Broken [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-22
Updated: 2011-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-14 23:14:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/154536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydragon76/pseuds/ladydragon76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b> They really shouldn't have done that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bent, But Not Broken

**Author's Note:**

> **‘Verse:** G1  
>  **Series:** Bent  
>  **Rating:** NC-17  
>  **Pairings:** Mirage/Sideswipe/Sunstreaker  
>  **Warnings:** What the Anon Op asked for! *grins* Non-con, mind-fuckery, violence, disturbing mental images, character death. Went with Sparks for interfacing. I do hope you all enjoy.  
>  **Notes:** Request from tfanonkink. Horror, please pay close attention to the warnings. The Bunny has FANGS! Original Prompt is [here](http://community.livejournal.com/tfanonkink/491.html?replyto=647403)
> 
> Time structures I use:  
> Nanoklik = aprx a second  
> Klik = aprx a minute  
> Breem = 8.3 minutes  
> Cycle = 2 hours  
> Rotation Cycle = 36 hours  
> Decacycle = about 3 weeks.

Motormaster stood beside Megatron, his arms crossed over his chest plates, as he surveyed the prisoner. Mirage hung in the center of the cell, arms up and stretched out to either side, ankles braced wide as well. The Autobot was staring silently at them, and Motormaster was twitching to punch the mech right in his pretty face. Or zap him into oblivion with a good hard fragging. Instead, he calmly spoke to Megatron. “Right as the retreat was called, he just appeared there in front of me. Think he got caught in Soundwave’s last sonic blast.” Motormaster chuckled and let a slow, dangerous smile curve across his lips. “I thought you might like a chance to… talk to him.”

“Indeed,” Megatron said.

“Was also thinking this might be worth a bit of a reward. Maybe an extra ration of energon for me and my team?”

Megatron’s optics narrowed as he faced the gestalt leader. “A reward?” The tyrant’s face twisted into a mocking smile. “Yes, I shall reward you and your team for your utter incompetence on the battlefield! The five of you shall rotate guard duty of this prisoner for the next decacycle, and you shall be grateful that I don’t strip you to your transformation cogs for your insolence!”

Motormaster nodded in acceptance, unfazed by the threat. The extra energon had been a long shot anyways, and let the megalomaniac think being down here alone with the little, helpless Autobot would be a punishment. “Breakdown, Dead End, you’re both up first.”

Wildrider giggled and followed Motormaster out of the brig, and Drag Strip sneered at his team mates and left.

Megatron faced Mirage. “You’re an elusive one.” Mirage remained silent. “Soundwave,” the tyrant called, optics never leaving Mirage’s. “Let’s see what our guest knows.”

“And when that fails...” Starscream trailed off, lounging back against the wall. He blinked innocently at Megatron’s glare. “It just seems to me, glorious commander, that if Soundwave were capable of scanning the Autobot’s processor, then maybe we wouldn’t be down here at the bottom of the ocean.”

“Starscream…” Megatron snarled.

Starscream waved him off and turned his head away in a mock submissive gesture. “Do as you please. Forget I said anything. When you’ve failed,” sharp red optics snapped back up to Megatron’s, “ _again_ , I will still assist in… convincing our ‘guest’ to cooperate.” Starscream’s malicious glare turned back to Mirage.

Megatron continued to glower at his Air Commander for another moment before motioning for Soundwave to proceed.

The telepath stepped close, fingertips settling in an unexpectedly gentle touch along the sides of Mirage’s head. Mirage shuttered his optics, body relaxing within his bonds. Megatron tossed a triumphant smirk at Starscream, then turned back to watch and wait.

Nothing occurred for nearly an entire cycle. Megatron had grown bored and ordered Breakdown to bring him a seat. He sat calmly, wondering at all the delicious information Soundwave would soon be providing. Starscream, oddly enough, remained quiet, optics intense and focused on Soundwave. It was the slow return of the seeker’s evil little grin, that had Megatron paying more attention to the prisoner and his Communications Officer.

Soundwave’s frame had the slightest of tremors shaking it. His fingers now clenched tight to Mirage’s head, and his vents were cycling faster, becoming audible.

With a gasp, Soundwave stumbled back, visor flickering and balance off.

Mirage’s optics opened and a snide smile teased its way onto his face.

Starscream was snickering as he stood up straight. “Perhaps, oh mighty Megatron, you should consider listening to your Second in Command occasionally.”

Megatron growled. He stepped forward, taking sadistic delight in the way Starscream flinched. Instead of punching the seeker, he buried his fist in the center of the Autobot spy’s mid-section. Mirage grunted at the impact. “It would have been far easier on you to have submitted to the scan,” Megatron murmured in Mirage’s audial.

Mirage’s face tipped up, his mouth near Megaton’s own audial, and whispered, “Release me now, and I will leave without decimating your army.”

Megatron stepped back and laughed. He reached out, and without even using much of his strength, cuffed the Autobot on the side of his head. Mirage’s entire body jerked under the force of the blow. “I want to know everything.” He punched the spy again, this time in the center of his chest plates. “Patrol routes.” A backhanded slap. “Energon delivery schedules and routes.” One of Megatron’s claws slid from the tip of his left index finger and with a shriek of metal on metal, sliced a jagged line through the dent in Mirage’s chest. “Teletraan One’s command codes. Everything.” He delivered a sharp, fast punch to the side of Mirage’s helm.

The spy’s head snapped back, and for the second time that day, Mirage was sent into a forced system’s reboot.

Megatron snorted in irritation. He was pleased to see Starscream take a step back when he turned to face the seeker. “Do it your way, but I expect results.” Megatron paused and looked back at his prisoner. “And I want him kept alive. He’ll beg _me_ for deactivation before I grant it.”

Soundwave received a disappointed glare and his masked face dropped in acknowledgement of his failure. Megatron huffed and strode out of the brig, the telepath following. He was surrounded by incompetent fools.

~|~

“You can stop pretending,” Starscream said softly, careful to keep his voice low so the two Stunticon guards outside the cell would not hear him. “I know precisely how long it takes to reset after a blow like that.

Mirage’s head lifted and his optics onlined.

“Unlike Megatron, I am not going to underestimate your processor power. You are obviously intelligent or you would not have survived as a Black Ops agent as long as you have.” Starscream began pacing slowly back and forth in front of Mirage. “I am sure it’s no surprise to you that I have no faith in Megatron’s… _leadership_. He’s a power hungry brute, and will never be capable of restoring Cybertron, or leading the Decepticons to the glory he claims he will. All he craves is destruction and dominion.”

Starscream stopped and stood facing Mirage. “And you, for all your many talents as a spy, have desires as transparent as your body when the electro-disruptor is activated. It is no secret that you do not wish to fight in this war. That you long for our homeworld.”

He returned to pacing, and sighed a little before continuing. “As a spy you must be aware that everyone has their breaking point. Yours will be found, Megatron will have his information, and then you will die a very painful, slow deactivation, never having set foot in your home again.”

Mirage’s optics followed Starscream as he walked, back and forth, back and forth.

“That is not what I want. I also care very little for this world or its inhabitants. They aren’t worth the energy it would take to destroy them and they are no threat to Cybertron.” Starscream stopped and stood in front of Mirage again, staring straight into the clear blue optics. “When I am leader of the Decepticons, we will return to Cybertron and rebuild our home! You can help me. And for doing so I will help you. Once we _are_ back home, you will be rewarded and hailed as a hero.”

Mirage blinked, head tilting a bit in curiosity. “With a voice like yours, I would not have thought you would enjoy hearing yourself talk so much.”

Fury drew Starscream’s dark lips into a hard line. “You have only this one chance.”

“On the contrary, you do,” Mirage stated, voice calm and smooth. “Release me now, or I will ruin you more completely than Megatron has ever dared.”

Starscream’s optics went wide for an instant, before he composed himself and took a step back. “Very well.”

Mirage stood silently, optics still on the seeker, as Starscream walked away and leaned back against the wall again. Only a few kliks later, Vortex entered the cell pushing a small cart.

A vicious grin appeared on Starscream’s face. “Last chance,” he said.

Mirage blinked calmly and continued to stare at Starscream.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Vortex snickered as he began setting his tools and various instruments out on top of the cart.

“Hurt him. Do not kill him. Megatron has already claimed that right.”

“Since when do you care about what Megatron wants?” Vortex grinned and pulled an electro-whip out of the bottom drawer.

“I’m merely warning you that Megatron will be _displeased_ with you, should you take his kill.”

“Hrmph. Since when do you care whether or not the boss would be ‘displeased’ with me?” Vortex wheeled the cart out of the way and picked up the electro-whip again.

Starscream’s fingers pressed lightly to his chest plates. “You wound me, my dear Vortex. I greatly admire your work, and would be quite distraught if you were harmed beyond your capacity to continue the art.”

Vortex twirled the whip and gave the Air Commander a wry smile until Starscream shrugged and snickered. “Just give him a taste of what he has in store should he continue to play the little hero.”

Vortex stepped around behind Mirage, and Starscream smiled sweetly at the spy, their optics locked. The whip buzzed to life an instant before the lash swept over Mirage’s back.

“Come now. Are you planning to torture me, or tickle me into giving you information?”

Starscream scowled, but Vortex laughed. He leaned close, the whip slithered and crackled against the outside of Mirage’s leg. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you so, so much!” Vortex murmured. He nipped at Mirage’s shoulder and then moved back.

The whip whistled this time as is snapped through the air. Blow after blow landed all across Mirage’s back side. Stinging jags of lightning sizzled across his armor, darted into the seams, struck any exposed cables and lines.

Vortex watched as the Autobot’s frame stiffened every time he lashed out, and grinned as black scorch marks appeared on the blue and white paint. He wasn’t hitting Mirage nearly as hard as he could, but then he did so enjoy dragging this sort of thing out. This wasn’t meant to break the Autobot yet anyway.

Starscream smiled, looking almost serene as he watched the whipping. Mirage had stood stoic and expressionless for the first few blows, but that had progressed to wincing and flinching, and the last one drew a hiss of pain. Starscream held up his hand, and though he cast the Air Commander a pout, Vortex dropped his arm.

“How about we start with the energon deliveries you pathetic Autobots get from the humans?”

Mirage opened his optics and stared impassively at Starscream as the seeker approached. “I will tell you nothing.”

“You can save yourself damage and pain,” Starscream cajoled. “You will break, and you must know how much Vortex is enjoying this already? He’s a true sadist.”

The Autobot remained silent and Starscream shook his head, waving Vortex to continue.

Starscream stood off to the side watching for a long while, fury growing as Mirage did nothing more than grunt, hiss a bit in pain, and flinch. Vortex had literally peeled back bits of the spy’s plating. He’d crimped wires and cables. Vortex had even forced Mirage’s chest plates open, painfully breaking the locking clamps, and taken that cattle prod he’d stolen to the spy’s internals. When that still failed, Vortex went back to his electro-whip.

Arcs of blue-white lightning crackled over the spy’s battered plating, the power of one lash still active as the next blow fell. Mirage’s body twisted and he finally gasped, “Stop! Enough!”

Starscream smiled, pleased. One hand raised and Vortex sighed. The whip cracked across Mirage’s back one more time before he shut it off and stepped back.

Mirage looked up, vents heaving, respiration loud. Starscream’s face was smug as he looked down at the spy and waited. “Talk,” the seeker commanded.

“Very well,” Mirage panted. Starscream watched in amusement as the spy’s face smoothed out. Blue optics blinked a few times and Mirage’s voice was flat, emotionless when he spoke. “You have broken my spirit and I shall tell you all I know.”

Vortex giggled and Starscream scowled at the Combaticon.

"You asked about scheduling?” Mirage’s voice remained dead. “Prime has Wheaties for breakfast every day at oh-seven hundred hours. Local time, of course. At ten hundred, you can usually find Tracks in the washracks. His buffing is positively indecent. We all gather around in the common room at thirteen hundred for energon goodies and sparkling tales before our afternoon nap. At sixteen hundred-“

Mirage’s head twisted sharply to the side as Starscream backhanded him. The seeker stepped back, outrage and fury making his wings shake where he held them hitched high and stiff. Mirage was smiling as he turned back.

Starscream faced Vortex. “Enjoy yourself until it’s time for your duty shift, but make sure he lives.” The seeker left and the Combaticon stepped forward.

Vortex’s smile was bright, gleeful. “How about we play a game?” The cattle prod buzzed as the Decepticon grazed his fingers close to the active end. “Let’s see how long I can keep you conscious while holding you just to the edge of death.” He jammed the cattle prod into the middle of Mirage’s chest. Electricity shot along the spy’s internals and his optics flared to white, mouth open, but still silent.

~|~

Motormaster stopped in front of Mirage, and gazed down at the sleek little Autobot staring up so calmly at him. Now that Mirage had finally regained consciousness, the Stunticon could have some fun of his own.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Motormaster rumbled.

A brow ridge arched up. “Fascinating! I had been led to believe Soundwave was only telepath in the Decepticon ranks.”

Motormaster threw back his head and laughed, Wildrider was giggling and bouncing on the tips of his pedes by the door. “I gotta thank you for that. About time someone put that nosey bastard in his place.”

“I am thrilled to have pleased you,” Mirage sneered.

“You should be,” Motormaster growled and gripped Mirage by the chin. “And let me clear up any misconceptions you might have right away. I’m not interested in information. In fact, _I’m_ the one who’s thrilled. You go right ahead and keep your secrets as long as you can. Just means I get to have a bit of entertainment for at least the next decacycle.” He released Mirage’s face and stepped back. His teammates flanked him, two to either side. “But hey, if you feel the need to beg or scream or tell us any useful information, then go ahead. It’ll be fun for me to rub it in Vortex’s face that I got you to break when he couldn’t. Won’t help you, of course, but go for it.”

“Me!” Wildrider was practically vibrating he was so excited and giddy. “Me first!”

“What?! No, way. Me!” Drag Strip snapped.

“He’ll be dead before I get a turn,” Dead End muttered.

Motormaster sighed and cuffed Drag Strip and Dead End in the backs of their heads, since they were the easiest to reach, making both stumble. Dead End dropped to his knees and stayed there. Breakdown’s mouth snapped shut as he wisely choked back whatever comment he was going to make.

Wildrider cackled and moved, only to get snatched back by his team leader. “I’m going first, idiot.” Motormaster shoved the crazy mech aside. “I was just stepping back for a good look.”

Mirage narrowed his optics, but did nothing else.

“I’m going to enjoy hearing you scream.” Motormaster reached out and traced a finger up along the center seam of Mirage’s chest armor. With a turn of his wrist, the spy’s chest plates opened and shifted away. Mirage’s self-repair had not yet had the time to heal the hinge locks, and he grimaced as Motormaster smiled. “Are all Autobots so easy?”

“Not gonna be any fun if it doesn’t hurt him,” sulked Drag Strip.

“Oh it’ll hurt. He doesn’t want me. There’s no heat, no pulse of a hungry spark reaching.” Motormaster felt around on the armor protecting Mirage’s spark chamber until he found the clasps. He shoved the large blunt fingers of both his hands between the edges and the spy’s internals, and gripped the metal hard, pushing with slow unstoppable pressure against the sensitive clamps.

Mirage gasped, head turning to the side as the pain twisted within his chest. The clamps and hinges gave with a short squeal of metal, and bright blue light washed over the dark armor of the Decepticon.

“Oooh! Pretty!” Wildrider shoved his way in, the clicks of his chest plates unlocking sounding as he reached an indelicate hand toward the crystal structure surrounding Mirage’s spark.

Motormaster caught his teammate’s wrist and used it to throw the smaller mech across the cell and into the wall. “Now you’re last, and if you say a single word about it, you won’t get a turn at all.” He turned back to Mirage, and chuckled as he listened to the high-pitched whirr of the Autobot trying to close the broken and dented core armor. He released his own clamps, chest and spark armor separating easily. “Hope you aren’t expecting foreplay.” Then Motormaster grabbed Mirage by the spy’s sides and pressed their chests together.

The Stunticon threw pulse after pulse of his spark energy against Mirage’s. The Autobot trembled in his restraints, teeth clenched and optics squeezed shut as he fought the instinctive response to return the energy, shunt the pure power back to the other spark.

Mirage gasped again, a short grunt escaping as he inevitably lost the battle and Motormaster growled low in victory. The Autobot continued to fight, his return pulses intentionally weak. Motormaster snarled and tightened his hold until Mirage’s armor began to dent under the sheer strength of the other’s grip. “You will scream before the night ends,” Motormaster promised, then throbbed hard into the spy, before overloading. His frame tensed and he watched as Mirage clenched his jaw shut and shook.

Rape overload was nothing like a voluntary exchange. It was agony, blazing horrific _burning_ agony. Motormaster stepped back and shut his armor, smirking down at Mirage as the spy’s vents cycled fast and he sagged in the chains holding him up. “Next,” Motormaster said, and moved to sit against the wall to watch. “An extra ration to the one that gets that scream I want.”

Wildrider was already moving towards Mirage, but stopped at Motormaster’s glare, and went back to pacing and muttering too low to be heard clearly. Breakdown got to the Autobot first and punched him in the face. The blow rocked Mirage back, optics flickering. He was pulled back instantly, Breakdown’s spark beating against his, even as the Stunticon dug his fingers in and gave Mirage’s wires vicious, sharp twists. He snarled and struck Mirage again. “Offline them before I offline you!”

Optics resetting again, Mirage returned his gaze to Breakdown’s face. “Your tyrannical warlord would be rather miffed should you kill me.” His vents heaved, and Mirage gasped as he lost the battle to throw off the other’s spark a second time. Pain pinched the fine features of his face, but his gaze held steady on Breakdown.

Breakdown shouted in wordless rage. He struck repeatedly, but each time Mirage’s optics would turn back to stare at him. Behind him the others were laughing. With one final, powerful blow, Mirage’s head snapped back and stayed back. The spy’s body hung from the restraints limp and unconscious.

Dead End sighed and moved forward after Breakdown reached his overload. “I suppose unconscious is better than deactivated.”

“And better you than me,” Drag Strip said. “I want to feel him fight.”

Dead End shrugged and pressed his spark in close to the Autobot’s. There were a few pulses of resistance, but none of the glaring and fighting the other two had dealt with, and that was fine. Dead End would just enjoy the momentary pleasure from one that could not deny him or mar his finish.

Mirage’s body tensed and his head snapped forward, slamming his helm into the bridge of Dead End’s nose. The Stunticon fell back with a cry. Fury shot through him, and ignoring the raucous laughter from his gestalt mates, he was back up and throbbing hard, violent thrusts of energy into Mirage. The spy grunted as one of Dead End’s hands wound under his abdominal plating, and began scratching and pulling far too hard on the tender cables and lines.

“I wasn’t planning on hurting you!” Dead End hissed into Mirage’s audial. “Now you’ll suffer!”

“This is rape. By definition it hurts and is suffering,” Mirage hissed back. “And you are going to suffer far more than this when I get loose.”

Dead End’s fist clenched hard around Mirage’s internals, he pulsed fast and sharp, and howled as his release claimed him, little blue bolts of lightning dancing between their frames. The overload left Mirage reeling, gyros spinning, and he again hung from the restraints. But once again, the spy only sucked air harshly into his overworking vents, the slightest groan of pain escaping from behind gritted teeth.

A cable snagged as Dead End pulled his hand free from Mirage’s abdomen, eliciting another sharp breath. Drag Strip smiled as he wrapped one arm behind the spy’s back and used the other to tip Mirage’s face up.

“ _I’m_ going to make you scream,” he said, still grinning and utterly confident that he could. “I have better control than the others, and no problem drawing this out. It ends when you beg me to end it and scream.”

“How cute,” Mirage said, voice rough and low, but still condescending. “You actually believe that.”

Drag Strip’s face dropped into and angry scowl and he forced his spark against Mirage’s. The spy grunted, unable to fight beyond the Stunticon’s first two pulses. “I’ll show you!”

He did draw it out. Slow, rhythmic bursts of energy pushed into Mirage, and the spy was becoming far too exhausted to restrain his own spark. He gave up on that, and panted fast and shallow, vents blasting too hot air out. Drag Strip dug his hands in everywhere, tweaking and twisting, petting even, keeping his touches varied and random, trying to break the spy’s concentration. But his own systems were running hot now, pleasure rushing across his circuits, his body beginning to tremble with the effort of holding off his overload.

Mirage looked Drag Strip right in the optics, a small grin beginning to curve the edges of his mouth up, and throbbed back with one hard glorious roll of his energies.

Drag Strip arched against the Autobot and shouted as release crashed through him. He shook and clutched at Mirage, respiration fast and erratic. Laughter cut through the post-overload haze and he straightened, slamming his fist hard into the smirking spy’s face.

Smiling despite the pain and energon now leaking from the gash in his cheek, Mirage rasped, “Which of us was supposed to scream?”

Cackling hysterically, Wildrider caught his teammate’s arm before the next punch could land, and pushed Drag Strip away. “My turn! You had your chance.”

Wildrider reached out and gently stroked Mirage’s spark crystal. “Pretty, pretty. So, so pretty.” He giggled as the Autobot flinched and tried to twist away. “Don’t care about the energon or the overload. Just wanna hear ya scream.” Wildrider spent a few more moments just petting Mirage’s core. “So pretty,” he snarled and punched the crystal.

Mirage’s optics went wide as excruciating waves of Pit-fire consumed him. He couldn’t have screamed then had he wanted to. The world inverted, and Wildrider snickered and danced out of the way as Mirage’s tanks purged.

“I knew that’d hurt!” the Decepticon crowed. Wildrider returned, chest plates sliding back, respiration fast and chassis already hot as he pressed against Mirage. He moaned and nibbled his way up the Autobot’s lateral cranial crests. “That was awesome!” Wildrider moaned again and slammed his energies into Mirage.

The spy shuddered, twisting and trying to break the connection, hands gripping the chains that connected to the mag-lock cuffs around his wrists. Wildrider giggled between panting moans and grunts of pleasure. “Can’t run, can’t escape. Gonna frag yo…oooohhh… every… nnnhhh… night… ‘til you’re dead!”

Mirage’s entire body spasmed as the Stunticon overloaded. Wildrider was comically loud, laughing even as he sobbed in ecstasy. He draped his arms around the spy’s shoulders, hanging and stressing Mirage’s joints until he caught his breath. Wildrider pulled the Autobot’s face up and pressed his lips to Mirage’s mouth in a sloppy kiss. Mirage whipped his head to the side, but the Stunticon let him go, giggling as he sauntered away, and shrugging at Motormaster for his failure to gain the coveted scream.

“That was fun!”

“Idiot!” Drag Strip snapped.

Motormaster remained seated for a moment, fingers lightly brushing over the center seam of his chest plates. Mirage watched, vents hitching and body shaking as he fought to control the pain winding through every circuit in his body.

“A rousing show,” Motormaster said as he rose. Mirage’s head tipped back as the large Stunticon approached. Motormaster’s hands grasped the chains above the spy’s wrists and he simply stood, staring at Mirage for a few moments. “And you’re still standing. I’m actually impressed. Not bad for a soft-sparked Autobot. But then I guess all that fancy Towers ritzy slag might have something to do with it.” He grinned. “We’ve heard others talking, so there must be something they have a reason to be jealous of. Guess you are well built.”

Mirage’s brow ridge arched up. “Is it a Decepticon trait to enjoy listening to the sound of one’s own voice?”

Motormaster’s hand moved lightning fast and squeezed Mirage’s throat. “Is it an Autobot trait to never know when to shut up?”

The spy snickered. Actually snickered, and Motormaster had to admit to the irony of his words.

Chest plates slid back and Motormaster lifted Mirage by the neck instead of leaning down to align their sparks again. The spy dangled helplessly, hip, knee, and ankle joints strained as the cuffs binding him to the floor pulled taut. Spark energy crashed in unrelenting waves from Motormaster. Mirage tightened his grip on the chains and pulled to take some of the stress off his neck, but the servos in his shoulders were already stressed and the blaze of _pain_ from his spark caused him to shake and slip after only a couple kliks.

Motormaster growled, still holding the spy up with one hand. He was revved up from watching Mirage twist and writhe at the hands of his team and would not last long, but he was determined to make the Autobot _hurt_.

Mirage whimpered and Motormaster lost control. It wasn’t a scream but it as something. His hands squeezed, one had slipped and grasped the cuff at the spy’s wrist. The other choked Mirage and caused him to thrash even as the agony of rape overload tore through him yet again.

When Motormaster let go, Mirage hung, unconscious and looking ruined with his spark exposed. The Stunticon grinned and reached out to close the core armor, then the Autobot’s chest plates.

“Aww! Why’d ya do that?!” Wildrider whined.

“Because if we leave it open, we’ll have to listen to Starscream bitch about us messing with his prisoner.” Motormaster pinned each in turn with a glare. “Do any of you want to have to listen to that irritating fragger whine on for cycle after cycle?” All four shook their heads. “Good. Drag Strip and Dead End will finish the guard shift.”

“But-“ Dead End began.

“ _And_ ,” Motormaster cut him off. “Breakdown will bring you back energon before quickly returning to our quarters with mine.” He headed for the door, snagging Wildrider on the way. No way was he leaving the wing-nut unsupervised around the prisoner. “And do not touch the prisoner. Too much more and we might kill him, and that takes us right back to listening to Starscream bitch, and me having to deal with Megatron. Move it Breakdown!”

~|~

Dead End stood leaning against the wall just outside the Autobot’s cell and frowned at his recharging teammate. Of course Drag Strip would recharge, leave the responsibility all to Dead End, and still take credit for a shift completed.

Nervous, Dead End glanced over at the controls. They’d been ordered to leave the energon bars off but he didn’t like it. Sure Mirage was chained up and couldn’t escape. And Megatron was right, it was a waste of energy they didn’t have a surplus of, but it still bothered Dead End. Every now and then the chains would rattle as the spy shifted, and every time Dead End would twist around to be sure Mirage was still where he was supposed to be.

He was really tempted to just turn on the bars. Drag Strip was really out… But no. Someone would notice the draw on power and then they’d be in trouble, well Dead End would be in trouble. Drag Strip wouldn’t waste a nanoklik in saying he hadn’t wanted to do it and would then tease Dead End for being a neurotic coward.

Of course Drag Strip might get in trouble for recharging on the job, but… well no. Dead End would get in trouble for not waking his teammate.

Dead End sighed. There was no winning here.

The chains rattled a little, and Dead End turned, cursing himself even as he did, but this time was different. The chains swung empty from the ceiling, cuffs open. The chains that had been locked around Mirage’s ankles were open and slack on the floor.

Dead End gasped, his mouth opening to call out to Drag Strip, when he felt an invading hand shoved into a gap in his side armor. Fingers shifted and found the medical override circuit for motor control. “How did you get out?” Dead End whispered, voicing only one of the dozens of frantic thoughts running through his processors.

“Mag-locks can only take so much current.”

Dead End’s motor control was stolen. The invisible mech laid him out on the floor, only being gentle so that Drag Strip wouldn’t be disturbed by the noise. Ghostly hands searched, quick, efficient, and found another override control.

 _I’m so slagged_ , Dead End thought, then it was all dark as he was sent into forced stasis lock.

~|~

“What do you mean he’s ‘ _gone_ ’?!” Megatron roared in Drag Strip’s face.

The Combaticon cringed, all bravado for once absent. “He’s just-“

“Shut up!” Megatron’s punch sent Drag Strip flying back to crash against the far wall. “Fools! Can none of you do a single thing right?!” The tyrant cast his glare around the brig, and eyed all the mechs present before turning back to Drag Strip. “Where’s Dead End?”

Motormaster held out a piece of shiny deep red metal. “It was by the cell door. Can’t reach him on comms. Can’t get to him through the gestalt link either. He’s functioning.” Motormaster shrugged, and when it became apparent Megatron wasn’t going to take the piece of Dead End’s armor, he tucked it in his subspace.

Megatron growled low and deep within his chest, then opened a channel to Soundwave. “Lock the base down. No one enters or leaves until the spy is recaptured. I want constant, multiple, _reliable_ guards on the energon storage room. I will be in to the Control Room soon.”

“Acknowledged,” Soundwave’s monotone was heard.

Motormaster held himself still as Megatron stepped close and glared down at him. “You and your team with search the ship until the Autobot is found. You will not recharge or refuel until you bring him to me. And do not for a moment think that this will be your only punishment for this failure.” Motormaster scowled right back but nodded. “What are you waiting for? Go!” Megatron thundered.

Starscream crossed his arms over his chest and watched as the Stunticons left the brig. “He’ll need to refuel soon. I spoke to Hook and he only gave Mirage a small transfusion, just enough to keep him functioning after doing a few necessary repairs.”

Megatron growled again and Starscream held up a hand and dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m not trying to argue your decisions, just point out that the Autobot _must_ be hungry, and fuel will be a priority over escape. Have you looked in the cell? He purged his tanks at some point and that wasn’t in Vortex’s report.”

“Such a minor detail, Starscream. Why would he?” Megatron turned and began the trek to the Control Room.

“Vortex takes pride is his abilities. He was pleased with his progress-“

“Pleased?” Megatron turned and Starscream stopped short, backpedaling, hands coming up in unconscious defense.

“He’s a _spy_! Special operatives are trained to take the kind of punishment Mirage received. You can’t expect him to break in a day.”

Megatron snarled wordlessly and spun back around, stomping heavily. “How long then?”

Starscream sighed and followed, he considered for a moment. “I hesitate to guess now. It would depend on whether this successful escape gives him hope, or his recapture steals it.”

Megatron frowned, entering the Control Room. “Once he’s recaptured, we will batter him with everything we have. This is too good an opportunity to pass up.” He waited until Starscream nodded then continued. “I want everyone searching. Find him!”

Starscream turned away and, for once, obeyed without argument.

~|~

“Look at this.” Bludgeon said and bent down.

Swindle raised an optic ridge and plucked the small clamp from the other Decepticon’s hand. “This belongs to Vortex.”

“Are you sure?”

Swindle chuckled. “I acquired them for him.” He looked around at the floor and ran his fingers along the wall. “Keep an eye out for more. Vortex doesn’t just leave these lying around, so that means Mirage had to have come this way. Maybe there’s a trail. Pits, I hope there’s a trail, I’m so bored of having to traipse around the base looking for an invisible mech. Vortex said he was really low on energon; it’s been two whole days, so he’s probably in stasis lock somewhere. I mean, _I_ can’t even get into energon storage right now, I doubt some Autobot’s gonna slip past the guards. Everyone would know what it meant if the damn door opened and closed on its own.”

Swindle sighed and turned. His mouth was open, ready to ask Bludgeon if he had seen anything else, but the other Decepticon was gone.

“Bludgeon? Lazy slagger, don’t think I won’t report you for ditching out on me.” Swindle walked back the way he’d come. It’s not like there were many places the other mech could hide. And that would not really be normal for Bludgeon anyway.

He kicked the scrap of metal before seeing it. Bending to pick it up, Swindle was already fairly certain of what he was looking at. Green armor plating and it looked to be from Bludgeon’s arm, where his model had the medical uplinks.

“Bludgeon!” Swindle called out loud and through the internal comm on the other’s personal frequency. “Bludgeon, answer me.”

Nothing.

“Swindle to Megatron.”

“Have you found him?”

“Afraid not. But Bludgeon’s gone and I got a piece of his armor here in my hands.”

“ _What?!_ ” Swindle winced at the volume of Megatron’s bellow over his comlink.

“Sorry, boss. One klik he was behind me, discussing one of Vortex’s torture clamps we found, and the next he was just gone.” Swindle shrugged even though Megatron could not see him. “Seriously. I turned my back for a coupla nanokliks, and walked further down the hall looking for more clamps. Thought Bludgeon was right there with me. Wasn’t a single sound. No fight. Nothing.” He could hear Megatron’s angry growl building over the comm and rushed on. “At first I thought he’d just wandered off, but we’re up here on level five, and there’s really no where he could’ve gone.”

Swindle stopped and looked around. “Um… Hey, boss, I think I’m gonna come down. Might be a bad idea to be alone up here.”

The link cut, but not fast enough for Swindle to miss the derisive ‘coward’ Megatron snarled.

Swindle kept his optics moving, head swiveling around, and sensors on full as he headed back to the lift. There was nothing though. No sounds. Nothing to see but purple-grey walls. There weren’t even any sensor ghosts or blips of radar.

The lift was still on his level too, so no one had gone down. Swindle didn’t want to be afraid, but he could be honest with himself. He was spooked. So when the lift doors closed, he stayed close to the control panel and hurried off when he reached the command deck, anxious to get back to a more populated area.

~|~

“What the slag is your problem?”

Drag Strip drew up short at Motormaster’s angry question. And what he had to tell wasn’t going to make his team leader any happier. “Breakdown’s gone.” There was a pause where even Wildrider stood still and stared at Drag Strip. “He was right behind me, two corridors over and then... gone. This was in the place I last saw him standing.” He held out a bent silver-grey panel cover.

Motormaster rushed back the way Drag Strip had come, shouting over his shoulder, “And instead of blasting the hallway and hitting the invisible ‘Bot, you ran away like a coward!”

“I’m not a coward!” Drag Strip snapped back, hurrying to follow with Wildrider snickering behind him. “He was gone! _And_! Oh wise and wonderful leader, I would have hit Breakdown too!”

Motormaster rounded the last corner and fired down the hall.

“Slagger!” Thrust yelled.

Thrust and Dirge were both lying on the floor now, having only had enough time to duck the wild battery of shots.

“Pit-spawned, glitching, frag-minded, bit-brained, _moron_!” Dirge roared as he climbed back to his feet. “You wanna explain shooting at me, _unprovoked_ , you overgrown, ground-pounding Optimus wannabe?!”

Motormaster fired again, only missing because Thrust grabbed Dirge’s shoulder vent and jerked him out of the way. “Mirage was just in this hall, idiot.”

“We saw Drag Strip going around the corner just as we entered,” Thrust said. “Mirage isn’t and hasn’t been here. Just us.”

“He’s invisible!” Motormaster raged back, trigger finger twitching with the desire to shoot the jet.

“Breakdown was just taken,” Drag Strip added. “I was leaving to tell Motormaster when you saw me.”

“Taken?” Thrust asked and stepped around his trinemate as Drag Strip held up Breakdown’s panel cover. The seeker took it and looked it over. “Why leave a panel cover? Chest armor, yeah, but a panel cover?”

Motormaster snatched the metal away and shoved it closer to Thrust’s face. “This would be the panel cover to Breakdown’s medical ports and circuits. Any other brilliant questions? No? Good.” He turned and stomped away, calling back, “Strip, you and Rider keep searching. I’ll find you after I report to Megatron.”

“Hope the boss beats the slagger,” Dirge muttered.

Drag Strip and Wildrider both bristled, but Thrust was already towing his trinemate away.

“Two down, three to go,” Thrust murmured as they entered a new corridor.

“What?”

“Two Stunticons gone,” Thrust replied. “Wonder if the ‘Bot will take the other three?”

“I hate the slagger, but I don’t see that little tiny spy managing to disappear with Motormaster.” Dirge paced along silently for a moment before casting Thrust a malicious grin. “Wonder what he’d accept in trade though for doing it?”

Thrust snickered. “Don’t know, but I’ll chip in.” He sobered almost instantly though as he thought of Bludgeon. “He might not be after the Stunties though. I mean, slag, why take Bludgeon? He’s all code of honor and half Autobot anyways. Everyone knows he didn’t approve of the whole torture info out of the enemy thing.”

Dirge rolled his optics. “Yeah, him and his ‘clean kill’ ideas.” He waved it off. “Doesn’t matter. We stay side by side and he can’t get the drop on either of us.”

“Right!” Thrust stepped closer to Dirge before daring to take his optics of his trinemate. “Good idea.”

~|~

Megatron stood over Bludgeon’s still form, his tone carefully modulated and trying to rein in his temper. “Where was he found?”

“Right here,” Hook said as he worked. “He’s unharmed other than being so depleted in energon that he’s stuck in stasis lock.”

“And how did he just _appear_ in your lab, when I know damn well you have this place rigged with surveillance, and alarmed when none of you are in here.”

Scrapper stepped forward and handed Hook another large syringe, full of energon. “That’s just the thing. We were here when he appeared. All but Scavenger were present, and he was in his storage room looking for a part for me. I turned around and there was Bludgeon.”

Megatron clenched his jaw to keep from roaring in frustration. “And you didn’t mention that before, because…?”

“I’m a little busy trying to keep Bludgeon from offlining!”

Turning to Scrapper, Megatron fixed the engineer with a fierce glare. “Is there anything else I should know? Perhaps Dead End, Breakdown, or Motormaster have turned up and you’ve been too busy to mention that?!”

Scrapper had the sense to take a step back, despite having the medical table between him and Megatron. “No. Only Bludgeon has been returned thus far.”

“Runabout to Megatron! Megatron! Help! He took Runamuck! I just turned around for a nanoklik, I swear!”

Megatron closed the link and opened a channel to Soundwave. “Find Runabout, Runamuck’s gone missing.” He glowered around at the Constructicons. “I want to know immediately and without delay _all_ details when something like this happens.” Megatron had turned and was almost to the door when he stopped and swung back around. “When you discovered Bludgeon, did you lock the lab down?”

“The doors were open,” Scrapper answered. “Mixmaster was working on something and the fumes were too intense even with the venting systems on high.”

Snarling about utter incompetence, Megatron stomped out of the lab. His pounding footsteps could be heard far before he was in view, and all but the frantic Runabout cowered back. Trembling fingers held out a mangled bit of pearlescent white armor, and Megatron grabbed it, throwing it back at Runabout.

“Pull yourself together, you pathetic excuse for a Decepticon!”

“My brother-“

“Would not have been taken if any of you fools could manage the simple task of finding that Autobot!”

Runabout clutched his brother’s armor to his chest and stepped back, nodding, but no less collected than before. Megatron growled and turned to Soundwave. “Have you found _anything_?!”

“Negative, Lord Megatron.”

“There are surveillance cameras everywhere! Do I, or do I not, have special operatives of my own here? Why has one, beaten, damaged, half starved _Autobot_ managed to elude you for half a fragging decacycle?!” Megatron’s fists clenched and even Soundwave took a step back as the fusion cannon powered up in reaction to the tyrant’s rage. “Check _all_ of the footage again and look for signs of tampering. Carefully screen the files from the Constructicons’ lab. Bludgeon was returned right under their very noses!”

Megatron turned and stormed away, just as loud and furious as he’d arrived.

Runabout whimpered and leaned against the wall. A quiet order from Soundwave had Slugslinger and Triggerhappy pulling the Battlecharger along with them to continue the searching. One last scan of the corridor revealed nothing, and the telepath left to work on the assignment he’d been given.

~|~

Two days later found Runamuck lying in front of the Constructicons’ lab door, drained of his energon and in stasis lock. Mere moments after Hook reported the return to Megatron, a surprisingly fearful sounding Drag Strip reported that he had woke from recharge to find Wildrider missing. He was unable to raise any of his gestalt mates on their comm channel, and could confirm nothing but that he thought they were still functioning.

Megatron dispatched Thundercracker and Skywarp to go see to the last Stunticon and only kliks later, the seekers reported the Stunticon quarters were empty.

Skywarp had teleported them there.

A mech a day went missing after that, always returned drained and in stasis lock outside the Constructicons’ lab. Megatron was furious and his temper all but gone. The taken and returned mechs told of a black and silent space, and the feeling of their energon being sucked right out of their lines.

Then nothing for two whole days. Decepticons roved the corridors in small packs of four and five mechs, always looking over their shoulders and jumping at the least little sounds or touches. They were even recharging in shifts and sharing quarters.

There was no sign of the Stunticons, and no amount of searching had been able to locate where the Autobot had taken them.

It looked as though the third day in a row would pass equally as uneventful as the previous two, but then Megatron’s comm crackled to life.

“Megatron!” Hook’s voice was tight and uncharacteristically strained. “Sir, you need to see this right away!”

Megatron was up and moving before the Constructicon’s sentence was completed. “Details!”

“All but Motormaster have been returned.” Hook paused, the channel silent for nearly a klik. Megatron growled in impatience and Hook continued, his voice low and genuinely disturbed. “He force bonded Wildrider and Dead End, and Drag Strip with Breakdown.”

Megatron froze mid step. “What?” He had to have misheard.

“Our alarms went off and when we got here from the Rec Room, Dead End and Wildrider were tied, spark to spark, no barriers between. The same for Breakdown and Drag Strip.”

“You’re certain?” Megatron asked, moving again, but voice low and displaying his own shock.

“Affirmative, Sir. They’re all drained into stasis like the others were, but I think that may be more due to how long they’ve all been bonding. Sparks don’t stop when a mech looses consciousness, that’s why there are so many layers of containment.”

The lab door hissed open, and Megatron stopped just across the threshold. “Bring them online! I want to know where Mirage is hiding! Did you check this room thorou-“

Mixmaster was shaking his head and interrupted. “The logs and cameras show the door opening, remaining open, the Stunticons reappearing, then the door closing. He entered the lab knowing he’d have a few kliks to rig whatever visual block he used to keep us from seeing the others, drop them on the floor near the medical area, and leave.”

“And I can’t just bring them online. Just separating the pairs was delicate work. Wildrider and Dead End’s sparks nearly guttered out twice.”

“But not Breakdown and Drag Strips?” asked Megatron.

“Well, no,” Scrapper answered. “We moved them apart much more slowly, having discovered just how tangled their sparks would be.”

“I want them online as quickly as you can.” Megatron switched to his comm. “Soundwave! Start looking for Motormaster, the others were returned.”

And he was back out the door, leaving the Constructicons staring after him. “Scavenger,” Hook said into the growing silence. “I need you to go over to our quarters.”

“What? Why?! Why me? I don’t wanna go, he’ll get me!”

“Because that’s where I locked all the spare medical rationed energon,” Hook sighed and motioned to Mixmaster. “Go with him. I don’t know that we’d be targeted-“

“You worked on him!” Scavenger rasped. “Oh Primus!”

“I repaired him as much as Vortex allowed me, and gave him energon. I don’t believe, and definitely hope, he won’t be seeking revenge for that. But even after I radioed Starscream, I was ordered to only do enough to keep him functioning, and he was partly conscious while I argued. You know I don’t like leaving a patient at anything less than perfect.”

“Rather tenuous hope, given you haven’t reported or even complained about the missing doses of sedatives,” Scrapper said.

Hook snorted. “I’m no idiot. If I’m already a target, there’s damn little to be done about it. If I’m not, I’d like to keep it that way. Now you two go get that energon! I’ve got four patients that need it. Bring as much as you can carry.” Hook watched as Mixmaster keyed open the door and waited for a nervous Scavenger to catch up. “Mixmaster.” He waited until the chemist was looking at him. “Carry it in your hands and subspace, not your tanks.” Hook grinned as Mixmaster’s visor dimmed and he groaned.

“Take all my fun,” Mixmaster grumbled and grabbed Scavenger by the shoulder, hauling them out of the lab.

Scavenger stayed right next to Mixmaster, and though the larger Constructicon sighed and looked generally put upon, he didn’t push his gestalt mate away.

“I don’t like it,” Scavenger said as they filled their subspace with the requested energon. “Maybe we should go?”

“Tower’s locked and Megatron’s the only one with the access codes. We ain’t going anywhere.”

“We have our underwater gear. The hydro-jets too. We could sneak out one of the lower hatches and run for the surface.” Scavenger huddled close, nearly shaking now as his optics darted all over their quarters. “He could be right next to us and we’d never know.”

“Primus! Get a grip!” Mixmaster grabbed Scavenger by the arm and hauled him out of the room and back towards the lab. “And say we did do that? What about when Megatron finds out? You think we’ll be able to just run off and then come back, and he’ll be all happy about it?” He snorted, keying open the lab door. “Not slaggin’ likely.”

Scavenger was pushed into the lab and walked quickly towards the table Hook waved him at. The four Stunticons were each on a table, the newly bonded pairs close together. He stared in blatant horror. “You can’t even move them too far apart, can ya?”

It was Scrapper that answered while Mixmaster and Scavenger emptied their subspace pockets. “No. They are going to have some serious problems until they adjust to the bonds and their sparks settle.”

Hook turned and looked at the table. “Is that all you brought?” He frowned as Mixmaster and Scavenger turned back to the table and stared. “It’ll be enough to get them online, but I would rather fill their reserves.”

“Wait.” Mixmaster stared at the cubes, and then glanced at Scavenger.

“Yeah,” Scavenger’s voice shook. “That’s not as much as we grabbed.”

Just then the door opened, no one _visible_ entered or exited.

~|~

Megatron was well beyond furious to learn of the energon theft.

Then later than afternoon, Vortex disappeared. His gestalt could not reach him and knew nothing other than that he was, for the time, alive. It was all over the base about the forced bonding of four of the Stunticons, and the Combaticons were frantic that they would be facing similar fates. They, and many others, were refusing to leave their quarters.

The still recovering Stunticons remained in medical and under the care of the Constructicons. None of them had taken the news of the bonding well. And none had any idea where Mirage had held them prisoner, as they’d never regained consciousness once he had taken them.

Just getting his Decepticons to their duty shifts was taking Megatron’s presence, door lock override codes, and violence to accomplish. The only normal behaving, and that was a subjective term, Decepticons, were Starscream, Soundwave, and surprisingly, Bludgeon.

Bludgeon simply said the Autobot had no reason for malice, and he believed he’d only been taken the first time due to convenience. He had been drained, but otherwise unharmed, as had all others, except the Stunticons.

Starscream huffed and walked the corridors as if the base belonged to him. It irritated Megatron, but given the traitorous Second in Command was actually being a positive role model, he didn’t say much about Starscream’s arrogance.

Soundwave, however, seemed to be restraining himself more than usual. His nervousness presented itself in little ways, such as the cassettes only being allowed out while the telepath was present. Megatron questioned his Communications Officer, but Soundwave was unable to pick up any trace of the Autobot or his captives. The scouring of security feeds only proved that Mirage had not tampered with them. How the spy was tricking the surveillance was still a complete mystery, one that frustrated Megatron, but not nearly as much as Mirage still being loose in his base did.

So when Soundwave suddenly went stiff in his seat, before shooting to his feet, Megatron was already demanding information.

“Unknown. One moment,” Soundwave intoned, ordering Rumble back into his chest compartment. Megatron frowned but followed the telepath out of the Control Room, rather than argue. “There is a beacon. Level two, aft storage area.”

“Where?” Megatron demanded once they reached the storage corridor.

Soundwave’s fingers ran along the wall and he stopped abruptly. “Here,” he answered, mild confusion coloring the usually crisp monotone.

“Where?!”

“Behind the bulkhead.”

Megatron stormed to the nearest door and overrode the locks. There was nothing in the room and it did not look as though the walls extended far enough. He looked between the room and where Soundwave still stood, his hand pressed to the wall and decided, it definitely was not this room. He rushed to the next and repeated the process.

“How would a beacon be coming from within the wall?” Megatron asked rhetorically.

Soundwave did not waste any time, and ordered the Constructicons to their location.

“Rip open the wall,” Megatron ordered.

“Use caution,” Soundwave warned and stepped well back and away. Megatron followed the telepath’s example, but a shared look gave him no answers.

Four Constructicons showed up and set right to work, Scrapper talking as they progressed. “No sign of any tampering with the wall from this side. Maybe in the other rooms?”

Bonecrusher and Mixmaster went together to investigate one room then the next, with no results. They returned just as the last rivet was removed and the panels pulled away.

There was a collective gasp that even Megatron took part in. Soundwave jerked back against the far wall, his visor shutting down completely for a moment.

Hook swore.

Spread-eagle, chest armor completely missing, Motormaster hung suspended within the very wall.

“How…?” Megatron began, only to trail off.

Hook and Scrapper moved close, both talking in hushed voices about how best to untangle Motormaster from the web of cabling and wires he was caught in.

“Primus!” Hook flinched as Motormaster twitched and one optic opened and barely glowed online.

“Hook!” Scrapper said and grabbed his gestalt mate’s arm. “Look at his spark.”

Both Constructicons ignored Motormaster’s feeble struggling and leaned in to look closer. “That can’t be. He _etched_ Motormaster’s spark crystal?!”

“At least now we know why Mirage targeted the Stunticons,” Scrapper said. He stood up straight and turned to face Megatron. “The etching says ‘rapist ringleader’. Looks like your guards took some lib-“

Scrapper was cut off as Hook threw an arm out and dragged them both back away from Motormaster. Hook reached forward and hauled the curious Mixmaster back as well.

“Hey, is that one of my-“

Mixmaster never got to finish his question. A small ‘pop’ sounded and Motormaster screamed, loud and agonized.

Soundwave jerked from his place against the wall and darted around the corner. Megatron didn’t stop him, too horribly fascinated to look away, as neon green liquid suddenly filled Motormaster’s spark crystal and began to dissolve it. The Stunticon jerked and writhed in his bonds as the acid destroyed both spark and containment.

“Hook! Scrapper!” Long Haul’s frantic voice cut over the active comm channel the Constructicons had left open. In the background howls and screams could be heard. “They’re all freaking out! What the slag are we supposed to do?”

“Gestalt bond,” Bonecrusher said, his voice subdued.

“Sedate them,” Hook ordered. “Just sedate them, we’re on our way.”

Soundwave returned just then and held out one hand. Megatron looked at the telepath in confusion, surprised he returned.

“A remote detonation device,” Soundwave said. “Abandoned and crushed.”

“You caught the signal,” Megatron surmised.

Soundwave nodded. “Mirage: Not present. Prediction: Vortex will be returned next. Starscream or I will be taken. Possibly you.”

Megatron glared at the telepath and further crushed the remote in his hand. “Unicron take this!” He switched on the base-wide comm channel. “Find that Autobot! The one to bring him to me dead or alive may ask anything of me and I will grant it!” Megatron closed the link and stormed away.

~|~

The day after Motormaster was deactivated, was a quiet one. It took time for the Constructicons to manage the four remaining Stunticons, and get back to removing Motormaster from the wall. By then half the army had made it to level two to look and see for themselves, and the half that didn’t, were shivering in their rooms and refusing to leave.

Swindle, for whatever reason he deemed necessary, had decided to search Vortex’s personal storage. The fact that nearly all of the interrogator’s tools and torture devises were missing was enough to compel Swindle to report his discovery.

No one knew how long those items had been missing.

Two more days passed, and the very lack of anything happening, seemed to wind the Decepticons even tighter. Megatron was the only one not rushing through the halls, scrambling his lock code by the cycle, and peeking around corners before continuing on. Soundwave was down right jumpy, and Starscream’s sneer had lost its convincing edge. The seeker flinched and his wings trembled at the slightest unexpected noise, and he rarely left his trinemates’ sides during the day if it could be helped.

The third day began with Megatron striding hard and loud toward the Control Room. Starscream had to trot to keep up but his fear kept his pride at bay, and he stayed as close to Megatron as he could.

Starscream ran straight into Megatron’s back as the tyrant came to an abrupt halt just inside the Control Room door. He scrambled back but Megatron didn’t even growl. Daring to peek around his leader’s side, Starscream leaned into the room. What he saw had him stumbling back into the opposite wall of the corridor.

He was still there when Soundwave and the Constructicons appeared. Starscream’s hand shot out and caught Soundwave’s shoulder. “Don’t let your creations see,” he whispered, then ran before he purged his tanks there in public.

Soundwave entered the Control Room cautiously and stopped short at the horrific sight.

The mech he knew to be Vortex, only due to the rotor blades binding his protoform to Megatron’s throne, was stripped of all armor. The outer silicon layer of his face had been peeled away, leaving the fine metal mesh to show. It had to have been unbearably painful. The sensors and connections were there, raw, and coated in dried, flaking energon. Visible throughout Vortex’s body were his own clamps. Motor function wires were spliced and rerouted. The electro-whip was painstakingly wound and woven all through the Combaticon’s internals.

“What are you waiting for?” Megatron snapped. “Get him out of here!”

“It’s not that simple,” Hook protested. Megatron snarled and stepped forward. “Do you see these wires and that slagging cattle prod of his? It’s connected to his… No!”

But it was too late. Megatron reached forward and tore Vortex from the throne. Soundwave twisted away, hands covering his audios, a low whine of sound escaping his vocalizer. Lightning cracked and sizzled all over Vortex and Megatron until all the Combaticon’s relays and connections blew, and there was nothing left to conduct the energy from the electro-whip and cattle prod. Megatron dropped Vortex’s shell and fell to the ground, optics flickering, and the telltale white smoke of blown circuits rising from the gaps of his armor.

Scrapper and Bonecrusher were carefully removing the rotors and wiring from Megatron’s throne, but Hook stood over their leader and frowned down at him, hands daringly planted on his hips. “It was connected to his spark chamber. We _could_ have untangled him and likely saved his life had you been just a _little_ patient.” Megatron’s vents heaved but he glared right back up at Hook. “Don’t you give me that look! You were all put out that Mirage took out one of your gestalts. _You_ just took out the second! It might have taken us time, but I would have gotten Vortex out of that alive.”

Hook spun around and stormed from the Control Room. Long Haul sighed and transformed, allowing Scavenger to gently place the fried husk that had once been Vortex in his truck bed, before driving off slow enough for his gestalt mate to walk beside him.

It was a few moments before Megatron recovered enough to stand, but when he did, even Soundwave hurried out of his way as the leader stormed out of the Control Room.

“Soundwave,” Scrapper called. “Who was on duty last night in here?”

It was another full day before both Misfire and Storm Cloud were found, unconscious, but unharmed outside of the Constructicon lab.

~|~

Starscream moaned and rubbed his face, trying to bring his optics online properly. His processors felt muzzy and dull. There was an ache all through his back and shoulders. He definitely did not feel well. That thought brought the sharp fear back into focus, and he instantly began a systems check.

**Foreign Contaminant Detected… Filtered at 86%  
Continue Filtration?**

Starscream consented and continued to watch the results on his internal HUD.

**Processor Functions  
Restored at 90%**

Well that wasn’t the best, but at least he knew he was clearheaded enough to think.

**Motor Functions  
Restored at 74%**

That did not please him. If he needed to fight he would need to be in top condition. Starscream sighed and massaged his fingertips in slow circles beside his optics.

**Energon Levels… 67%**

A bit low, but still expected given the length of time since he last refueled, and the fact his systems were fighting a toxin.

**Transformation Systems… Error**

Starscream’s fingers paused. What?

**Flight Systems… Error**

Error?

**Sensor Net… 23% Activated  
Reboot Sensor Net?**

He sent the confirm command and opened his optics.

**Reboot Failure. Retrying**

Starscream’s mouth opened in horror as he stared at his ceiling.

**Reboot Failure. Retrying**

“Impossible,” he gasped. But a fast twist of his neck, right, then left pulled a whimper from his lips. He looked back up at the ceiling.

**Reboot Successful  
Initializing Sensor Net**

His head rocked back and forth in denial, optics blown wide and nearly white.

A static and feedback laced scream tore from Starscream’s vocalizer, high and piercingly loud.

He didn’t even feel the pain as his sensor net activated.

Skywarp teleported himself and Thundercracker directly into the room, one of the Coneheads overrode the lock and they shoved in as well. All the seekers had heard, everyone had heard. Starscream was broadcasting on every channel the Decepticons had.

“Oh, Gods!” Skywarp cried as he stared at Starscream.

Thundercracker followed his commander’s stricken gaze up and tripped backwards, pulling Skywarp with him. His tanks roiled and he fought the compulsion to purge them. “Warp us outta here, Sky,” he whispered, unable to tear his optics off the gruesome sight above them.

The hysterical screams continued and Thundercracker shook his trinemate. “Get us outta here, Sky!”

“He… he ripped his wings off,” Skywarp whimpered, pressing back into Thundercracker, his own wings vibrating, he was shaking so hard. “There’s nothing but nubs left.”

Thundercracker clicked in distress, realizing Skywarp was still watching Starscream. “The ceiling, Sky. He nailed Screamer’s wings to the ceiling.”

Skywarp’s head tipped back as he looked up, and Thundercracker was forced to support the other seeker’s weight as his knees gave. “Primus!”

“Sky. Teleport us out of here!”

“But Starscream…”

“Sky!”

Thundercracker had never been more grateful to feel the twisting vertigo of teleportation. He kept his arms wrapped tight around Skywarp’s waist, and buried his face against a grey shoulder vent, offlining his comm channels. He was jerked off balance as Skywarp lurched away, purging his tanks on the floor.

Thundercracker knelt and pulled his trinemate out of the way of the cleaning drone. They curled together, wings tight to their bodies, and pressed into the far corner of their quarters.

“The Constructicons can fix him,” Skywarp said suddenly, though his tone held doubt.

Thundercracker tried to bring his respiration under control. “They’ll fix his wings.” But he wasn’t sure at all that Starscream’s mind would ever be repaired. Despite the thick bulkheads, and having no communications, he could _still_ hear the Air Commander’s screaming descent into madness echoing in his head. Thundercracker tucked his face into Skywarp’s neck.

~|~

“Desist your ridiculous pacing!” Megatron snapped from his throne.

Soundwave spun to face his leader. “Please… Please just let me send my creations to the surface,” he begged, foregoing his vocal filter in desperation.

“Absolutely not!”

“They’re sparklings!”

“They’re over fifty-five vorn old!”

Soundwave wrung his hands and began pacing again, shaking his head and arguing. “Only Ravage. And we were in stasis for over forty-eight of those fifty-five vorn. They are sparklings!”

Megatron glared. “I will not authorize raising the tower and allowing that fool Autobot to escape!”

A soft cry of desperation left Soundwave and he moved fast, dropping to kneel at Megatron’s feet, hands clutching the tyrant’s knees. His visor and mask retracted and he stared up, laid bare in his need to beg just this one favor from the master he’d served faithfully for so long. “I’m next! Please! I’ll stay here, I’ll do anything you want, just _please_ let me send the sparklings up to safety! I’m next!”

The back-handed blow to his face lifted and spun Soundwave. He lay limply on his back, arms and legs splayed, and stared in sightless shock at the wall. It hurt. His gyros spun, his right cheek throbbed in time to the pulse of energon through his lines, and he felt… betrayed. Megatron had never hit _him_ before. His visor and mask slid back into place, hiding his face as tears of hopelessness threatened.

“Get your cowardly chassis out of my sight!”

Soundwave slowly rolled his head to face his commander, then rose. He trudged through the corridors toward his quarters. It took longer than it should have as he listened and searched, both visually and telepathically, for threats. Soundwave keyed in his entry code and slipped quickly into his room. He would disobey. He would get his creations out. He would…

He gasped and stumbled back against the door. There, on the wall over his recharge berth, were precisely etched glyphs in perfect Cybertronian calligraphy. Even had Soundwave not known the identity of their tormentor, he’d have recognized the elegant script of a classically educated Towers mech.

**Lock the sparklings in here and come alone to sublevel three, hatch five, and they will not be harmed. You have one breem to say your good-byes and comply.**

The mask and visor were retracted again and Soundwave’s hand trembled over the laser-carved words.

Say his good-byes…

A sob escaped and he turned, sitting on the berth and leaning against the wall under those agonizing words. There was no doubt that he would do as told. Soundwave cried into his hands for a moment before forcing himself to calm. He had been blocking everything from his creations for days now. They knew the basics, but he had not allowed them to hear Starscream’s maddened, hysterical screams yesterday, or see Vortex’s mangled body.

“Cassetticons: Eject.”

One glance at the message and then his face, and Soundwave’s creations were shifting to their bi-pedal forms, crowding into his arms, and crying too.

“You can’t!” Ratbat sobbed. “You can’t!”

Even Ravage had tears rolling down his face as he shook his head in denial.

“I surrender, or he will take all of you down with me.” Soundwave held them tight, murmuring for them to escape the base as soon as they could, Megatron be damned. He whispered his love, telling them to stay together and stay out of the Autobot’s way, they wouldn’t be hurt.

His chrono signaled he had only a klik left.

Soundwave kissed each of his sparklings, and with a single focused pulse of psychic power, drove them all into forced recharge. He laid them together on the berth, cradling Ratbat close just a moment longer. The telepath stared at his creations as his chrono chimed his half-klik warning.

He left the room and scrambled the locking code from the outside. Soundwave knew it would not hold them long, especially after Frenzy woke, but it would do. He glanced around the hall, not sure what to expect, but could see and sense nothing.

Sublevel three, hatch five was as silent as a tomb when he arrived. A fitting thing, Soundwave thought, given why he was here. The hatch itself looked untouched. Ridges and rivets showed a fine coating of dust, proof no one had been down here, let alone opened the hatch, since the crash.

He was trembling harder now as his hands came up to cover all of his face but his optics. Soundwave felt even more vulnerable without the mask, his thoughts and emotions so easily read. But the mask and visor served to help him control the intensity of his telepathy. Without them in the way, he stretched, searching the dim corridor with optics, audials, and his mind. He turned in a slow circle, terror only increasing in the heavy silence that was only broken by the hitched gasp of his intakes.

“Please,” he whispered, not bothering to brush away the tears escaping his optics. “Please, I’m here. You promised… Please.”

But there was nothing. Nothing!

Soundwave whimpered as a breem passed, then another. He dare not leave to check on his creations. If he left, their lives would be forfeit. And if he had been tricked… another soft sob echoed in the dim… there was nothing he could do now. He knew it was cowardly, but he would rather deactivate with the hope, the illusion, his sparklings lived.

“Please,” Soundwave whispered again.

“Boo.”

Soundwave jerked his head to the left, and felt a sharp stab of pain in the main energon line on the right side of his neck. The injection rushed cold through his lines, optics blearing as he dropped to his knees. One hand braced him up, the other clamped weakly over the fading sting, Soundwave gasped, “Please.”

In his left audial, “How many, I wonder, have begged you?” In his right audial, “And how many did you actually grant mercy?”

None, Soundwave answered silently, none. And then the darkness took him.

~|~

“Hah!” Frenzy crowed as the door locks _finally_ disengaged. He smirked over his shoulder to where his brothers sat or paced deeper the room.

“And it only took you a full day!” Ravage snarled, stalking towards the open portal.

Frenzy sighed, shoulders slumping. “Did it fast as I could. Let’s go find Dad.” He stepped out into the hall,

… and disappeared.

Rumble screamed and dashed forward, the other four Cassetticons rushing to stay with him.

The corridor was empty, Rumble’s wrenching sobs the only sound.

~|~

“I don’t see any tampering with this hatch,” Scrapper said.

“I don’t care what you see or don’t, open it!” Megatron fumed as he paced back and forth behind the Constructicons. Behind him and out of the way were five of Soundwave’s six creations. They huddled together, weeping openly.

“I don’t get it,” Bonecrusher said as he and Scrapper went about stripping the sealing weld from the old disused hatch. “Why’d Mirage take Frenzy when he promised ‘Wave he wouldn’t hurt the kids?”

“I don’t care!” Megatron roared. “Get that hatch open! It must be where he’s been hiding! I will have that Autobot’s head for my wall! And I will have it today!” He rounded on the Cassetticons. “And you!” Megatron pointed his fusion cannon at them. “Get out of my sight! I’m sick of your sniveling!”

The Cassetticons fled and Megatron turned back to watch Scrapper and Bonecrusher. “What is taking so long?!”

Sighing, both Constructicons tore away the last of the weld strips and Bonecrusher gripped the hand-wheel. He gave it a hard twist and pulled the hatch door open. Icy water rushed in, knocking all three mechs back.

“Hurry!” Scrapper shouted. “Close it!”

Bonecrusher had radioed for help, but the water was ankle deep before Mixmaster and Long Haul appeared. Both ran headlong down the corridor, and not bothering to slow, used their momentum and threw their weight against the door.

When it was finally closed, Scrapper immediately began welding it shut. “Cut that damn wheel off! Slaggit, I knew there had to be a reason this was sealed!”

“Yeah, well good for you,” Long Haul snapped, trying to shake the water out of his legs. “I hate salt water clean up!”

Scrapper glared but said nothing. Megatron was growling and pacing. “This is ridiculous! You’re all useless! I’ll find that Autobot on my own!”

Mixmaster watched the tyrant thunder off and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall. “Oh and Scrapper? Hook says that the Screamer’s gonna need a rewiring for all flight stuff.”

“Flight stuff? Primus, Mix, use simpler terms, Long Haul’s having trouble keepin’ up,” Bonecrusher chuckled.

“Frag yourself,” Long Haul said.

Scrapper sighed and finished welding the hatch door shut. “Let’s go,” he said cutting off the budding argument. “It’s not safe to leave Hook and Scavenger alone too long right now.”

~|~

Frenzy shook and hunched in on himself as the invisible arms placed him in front of the console. The Command Center was deserted, the interior monitors showing empty hall after empty hall. Only one showed motion, and the youngling hacker flinched as Megatron blasted another bulkhead in impotent fury.

“Raise the tower,” a soft voice ordered.

He whimpered. “I don’ know the codes.”

“Hack the controls.” There was a pause. “And I will tell you where you will find your creator.”

Frenzy snapped his head around in the direction of the voice. “He… Ya didn’t kill ‘im?”

“He lives,” the voice answered from a different direction. “For now.”

The threat was clear. Frenzy shoved up his visor and scrubbed the tears out if optics. He knelt up to the console and began typing. Breems passed in silence, no other motion but Megatron appearing on one monitor or another. Then a full cycle passed. His third ‘access denied’ flashed on the screen.

“You will need to accomplish this faster than the door locks on your quarters.”

Frenzy jumped hard at the sudden intrusion after so long in silence. “I’m tryin’! I am, but Megatron’s not a complete idiot an’ it takes time ta write the code that’ll get me past his security commands!”

The silence returned and Frenzy bit at his lips, fighting for control as he went back to typing line after line of code.

Another half cycle passed and Frenzy sent a brief, spark-felt prayer to Primus that _this_ time, when he executed the program, he’d get in.

**Access Granted**

Frenzy’s helm dropped forward onto the edge of the console and he sighed in relief. Seventh time’s the charm…

“Raise the tower,” the voice ordered. Frenzy obeyed.

~|~

“What happened next?” Sideswipe asked, optics wide and bright in the black of the room as he leaned forward.

“Slaggin’-“ Sunstreaker reached out and smacked his twin in the back of his head. “Great job, dumbaft. Just ruin the whole fraggin’ mood of the story!”

Mirage snickered and lowered the dimly lit glo-sphere from where he had been holding it beneath his chin. “What happened next, is that I hurried to the surface, called for assistance, and spent the next week under Ratchet’s tender care for rest and recuperation, only to be sentenced to another week of light duty and check-ups.”

“Hah!” Sideswipe giggled. “That’s nothing compared to some of the recoveries Sunny and I have had.”

“I am aware.”

Sunstreaker grinned and leaned closer. “So… How’d you do it?”

“How did I do what?” Mirage asked, rolling the pale light globe in his hands and idly watching the bouncing shadows.

“Oh no ya don’t!” Sideswipe said and snatched the glo-sphere away. “None of that coy slag. Finish your little ‘Ghost’ story and spill how you managed to, _undetectably_ , hack the ‘Cons’ surveillance, hide all those mechs, survive till you stole the Structies’ energon, _and_ , most importantly… Ya think ya cracked ol’ Screamer for good?”

Mirage laughed as Sunstreaker rolled his eyes. “You weren’t listening at all were you?” Sunstreaker asked Sideswipe.

“What?”

“The other ‘Cons that were returned in stasis lock?”

“Yeah…?”

Sunstreaker’s optics rolled. “How do ya think they got empty?”

Sideswipes optics blinked a few times, then shot wide. He turned to look at Mirage. “Eww! You vampired the ‘Cons?!”

“Of course not,” Mirage sniffed. “I used a siphon.”

“Gross! How could you, babe? They’re ‘Cons!”

“Energon is energon when you are nearly depleted.”

“So,” Sunstreaker said. “What about the rest? Where’d you hide? Where’d you store them? How’d you get Motormaster in that wall?”

Mirage smiled and took the globe back from Sideswipe, holding it under his chin so the light and shadows played across his face again. “Those are my secrets.”

The twins shared a grin, then turned identical predatory looks on Mirage.

“Cons weren’t smart enough to interrogate him the right way,” Sunstreaker purred.

“Nope,” Sideswipe agreed. “We, on the other hand, know just how ta get answers out of _our_ spy.”

Mirage tried to keep a straight face, but then they both growled and pounced, pinning his wrists to the floor. He fell back, laughing even as Sunstreaker’s mouth latched onto his neck cables, and Sideswipe’s fingers dove into sensitive armor gaps. “I shall never tell,” he declared, then ruined the arrogant tone by moaning as Sunstreaker’s teeth bit down just right.

“We’ll see about that,” Sideswipe purred, lifting Mirage’s hand and slowly sucking on one finger.

Mirage shuddered, equal parts arousal and remembered fear. He moaned again, arching under Sunstreaker’s lips and hands as Sideswipe’s fingers massaged his wrist and elbow joints.

“So, tell us, Raj,” Sideswipe said, voice soft and low. “Where’d ya hide?”

“My secret,” Mirage whispered.

“Gonna get them all,” Sunstreaker murmured next to his audial.

Mirage shook his head, but their hands everywhere, brushing gently, massaging firmly, pinching so perfectly. He trembled as the twins matched each other caress for caress, their kisses trailing up and down his throat, his face, over his lips.

“Please.”

“Gonna have to talk if you want that overload, lover,” Sideswipe whispered against Mirage’s lips, then plunged into a devastating kiss.

“Where?” Sunstreaker asked softly by Mirage’s audial.

Sideswipe drew away, sucking Mirage’s lip as he went.

“Found a gap,” Mirage whispered and shook under their touch. “A tear in the wall of a storage room.” He moaned and arched as the twins rewarded his words with firmer caresses. Sunstreaker rolled his fingers over an exposed cable where Mirage’s thigh joined his body. He writhed beneath them.

“You hid in the walls?” Sunstreaker asked. Mirage nodded and groaned as Sideswipe sucked hard at his throat.

“That where you kept your prisoners?” Sideswipe asked.

Again, Mirage nodded. “Primus! Please, please!” But then he flinched hard as Sunstreaker’s fingers probed the front seam of his chest armor. Mirage gasped even as his arousal dropped and phantom pains rattled his frame. Sunstreaker’s hand flowed lower, his lips trailing in across Mirage’s chest, tongue licking slowly at the seam before moving on.

Sideswipe brushed little kisses all over Mirage’s face asking as he did, “The surveillance?”

“Will have to… ohhh… do better than… Primus! Sunny!”

A rolling, dark laugh vibrated against Mirage’s thigh and the cable Sunstreaker was sucking so enthusiastically on.

Sideswipe’s quiet laugh sounded by the spy’s audial. “The surveillance?” he repeated and wriggled his fingers deeper into Mirage’s side, tweaking and toying with sensitive internal wiring. Mirage cried out as pleasure rippled over his sensor net and caused his spark to flare.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both moaned.

Mirage tossed his head side to side. “Didn’t touch… uuuhhnnnn… the sur... veillance.” He whimpered and rubbed his body against both of his lovers. “Can push the disruptor field. Takes more energon, but-” Mirage sucked in a harsh breath and moaned as the twins wound themselves around his body. Sideswipe attacked his neck cables. Sunstreaker gripped Mirage’s chin and pulled him into a voracious kiss that had all three of them cycling their vents hard.

The snick of Mirage’s armor locks was audible even over the rasp and panting of their respiration. He squirmed, tugging at his arms, and the twins released his wrists, their chest plate locks clicking as well. Mirage let his armor slide away, and hurried to reach out to both his lovers, pushing his fingers into the glowing gaps, and letting the warm light spill over him.

There was a moment of hesitation, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe staring down at him and waiting for that final nod of permission. Mirage grabbed them both by the backs of their necks and pulled.

Three voices rang out as the twins pressed in close, their spark energy reaching out and twining with Mirage’s. With a wicked grin Sideswipe turned Sunstreaker’s face toward his own and kissed the other warrior passionately.

The visual stimulus was Mirage’s undoing. Ecstasy shot from his spark and out across wires and circuits, only to rush back in a hot wave. Above him the twins stiffened, Sunstreaker moaning long and low, Sideswipe whimpering. The dual flash of power from the twins’ overloads threw Mirage back over the edge as indescribable pleasure shook him. He arched and screamed, feeling everything burn white and clean.

~|~

“Hey,” Sideswipe grinned down at Mirage. “Welcome back.” He paused. “Again.”

Sunstreaker sighed and lightly cuffed his twin.

Mirage smiled. “That was a dirty trick kissing Sunny,” he said to Sideswipe.

“You love seeing us together.”

“Which is precisely why it was a dirty trick.”

The twins both snickered. They fell quiet for a few moments, Sunstreaker gently tracing patterns and glyphs over Mirage and Sideswipe’s armor. Then Sideswipe’s optics brightened and he cocked his head a bit to the side.

“So what did you do to Soundwave? Did ya really tell Frenzy where he was hidden?”

Mirage sighed and stretched a bit. “I am a soft-sparked Autobot. Do you really believe I would kill the only guardian to a bunch of sparklings?” The twins stared down at him and Mirage was tempted to see if they would ‘interrogate’ him again, but he was rather tired and content. He shook his head. “Very well. If I had killed Soundwave, then despite being sparklings, we would need to be on constant look out for six spies out for revenge. By simply sedating Soundwave long enough to use Frenzy to escape, they will not seek vengeance. They may even feel grateful, and I also believe Megatron’s actions may have shaken Soundwave’s faith in his leader.”

“Soundwave _did_ torture you though,” Sunstreaker snarled.

Mirage rocked his head back and forth. “No. He tried to telepathically push past my mental barriers and only exhausted himself during the failed attempt. That does not warrant his death and,” he paused. “Primus, I almost… I _wanted_ to let him know I would not kill him.” The twins scowled and Mirage shook his head again. “You did not see him, the way he completely broke down and sobbed before managing to compose himself enough to say goodbye to his creations. It was spark-rending. Even had I planned to kill him, I do not believe I could have gone through with it after seeing that.”

“Soundwave crying?” Sideswipe asked, optic ridges raised. “And I thought his laugh was creepy.”

Sunstreaker snorted a laugh of his own and pushed himself up, reaching down automatically for Mirage’s hand. “What about Motormaster?”

“I hauled him to that spot through the walls,” Mirage answered. “If they investigate at all, they will discover just how I managed to avoid them.” He was pulled down onto the berth and quickly found himself snuggled tight between two warm comfortable bodies.

“You’re badass, babe. Seriously. Bad. Ass.” Sideswipe grinned.

“Seriously,” Sunstreaker murmured, already half way to recharge.

Mirage smiled and curled between them. He would need to remember to thank Prowl tomorrow for giving the twins the next week off to look after him. Badass or not, he did not want to be alone yet.

**Author's Note:**

> [In the Wall by LB82](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7262980/chapters/16490611)   
>  [Starscream, sans Wings by LB82](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7262980/chapters/16530724)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Bent, But Not Broken](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7262980) by [LB82](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LB82/pseuds/LB82)




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